


Tipping Point

by Jena Bartley (jenab)



Category: Olympus Has Fallen (2013)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenab/pseuds/Jena%20Bartley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is haunted by dreams of what could have happened that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tipping Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> Thank you to Lana Baker for her wonderful beta reading services.

_Smoke from numerous explosions and fires created a lingering haze throughout the White House foyer. The formerly elegant entrance was riddled with bullet holes, debris scattered across the floor._

_The smell of gunpowder and blood hung heavy in the air, coating the back of his tongue with the taste of copper and death. The bodies of his Secret Service Agents littered the floor, once pristine and tailored suits stained with blood and gore._

_Their bodies were twisted and discarded like forgotten toys, eyes staring sightlessly into space. He moved carefully through them until his gaze fell on one in particular._

_Familiar brown eyes, usually full of life, stared blankly back at him from a face covered in blood. Mike’s service weapon was still clasped in a loose grip where he had fallen._

_Ben fell to his knees, heedless of the way broken bits of concrete bit into his knees. He reached out to touch Mike’s skin, finding it cold beneath his fingers. Despite Ben having pushed him away, Mike had tried to come and save him._

_And now Ben had lost him._

Ben woke up with a shout. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat. He pushed the tangled covers away before swinging his feet over the side of the bed.

He could feel his heart racing as he tried to shake the remnants of the nightmare.

It’d been two and half years since Maggie had died. A year today since Kang and his group had taken over the White House. 

He’d dreamt of Maggie falling to her death over and over since the cold, stormy night of her death.

Now, those nightmares were intermingled with new ones. Ones where he watches Kang kill Mike over and over, Mike’s lifeless body falling to the floor, his empty eyes on Ben. Or the dream he’d just had.

Tonight, the nightmares had been worse than ever. Today had been the one year anniversary of Kang’s attack on the White House and that long night spent in the PEOCC, watching Kang kill and torture Ben’s people in front of his eyes, praying that somehow Mike would stay alive and come for him. 

The day had been spent participating in several memorial services for the people who had died, including a private one to honor the agents who died trying to protect him and the other government staff. The news had been filled with images and commentary about that night.   
It had been a long day, flashbacks hitting him at odd times during the day, leaving him reeling and feeling off kilter as he met the families of those who had died, or meeting with the press. 

Ben had been grateful for how close Mike kept to him during the day. The agent had been visibly on high alert along with the rest of Ben’s detail. He’d been comforted by the brief touches from Mike, the brush of his hand as he gestured for the President to go ahead, the touch of his fingers pressed lightly against the small of Ben’s back to direct him. 

Mike had been very tactile in a way he’d never been before while on duty. Ben’s detail took great care not to touch the President unless it was to hustle him to safety.

Those touches helped ground Ben back in the present, pulling him out of that dark time. They always came just when Ben needed them the most.

That was typical of Mike. Knowing just what Ben needed. 

Someone knocked on the door, followed by query.

Ben sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. This wasn’t the first time his nightmares had brought someone from his detail knocking on his door. 

His heart had stopped beating so frantically but the sight of Mike’s lifeless eyes staring back at him lingered. 

Ben shoved the tangled covers away and got out of bed. He padded barefoot out through the outer room to the door. 

Opening the door, he found Mike standing on the other side, very much alive. Beyond him, Ben could see the members of his nighttime detail standing at attention. 

Mike was dressed in a snug t-shirt and sleep pants, hair mussed from being slept on. It wasn’t the first time Ben had found Mike on the other side of the door after one of Ben’s bad dreams.

Mike gave a slow once over, at once familiar and intimate in the middle of the night. His inspection stopped when Mike met Ben’s eyes.

“You look like hell, Ben.”

Ben managed a small smile for him. “Rough night.”

“Yeah.” Mike shifted slightly closer, holding Ben’s eyes. “I have something that might help.”

He held up a bottle of Ben’s favorite scotch, brown eyes warm with a glint of mischief in them.

Ben took a breath, smiling more easily at the other man. He took a step away from the door, leaving enough space to let Mike come in.

Mike’s shoulder brushed against him, sending a spark down his spine. Ben closed the door behind Mike, shutting out the other agents. 

The click of the door sounded almost too loud in the room.

Mike had settled on one of the small couches in the outer room of Ben’s apartment. He’d already snagged two shot glasses from a cabinet.

Ben sat down across from him on the matching couch with only a small coffee table between them. 

Mike poured them both a shot, sliding Ben’s glass towards him. 

Ben took it, tossing back the alcohol. It burned going down, helping shake loose the lingering fragments of his dream. 

Mike didn’t press him to talk, only kept watching him with a single-minded focus Ben had seen more than once while Mike was on duty or taunting him in the boxing ring. He only poured Ben another drink, letting a comfortable and long familiar silence fall between them. 

Out of the horror from last year, one of the best things to come out of it was returning Mike to Agent in Charge of Ben’s protective detail. Ben had missed him during the time he’d banished Mike, even as he couldn’t bear to see the man every day and be reminded of Maggie’s death - of the stark reality that Mike was only a man, no matter how highly skilled his US military training had left him. A man faced with an impossible situation where he could only save Ben and not Maggie. 

It had made Ben realize how much he’d put Mike on a pedestal, that the other man couldn’t hope to live up to such high standards. Not even Mike could overcome nature in a combination of a fierce winter storm, icy roads, and the falling of a tree limb. 

Mike had still done the impossible last year when he’d come for Ben and Connor, rescuing them both. 

Ben had missed Mike, the perceptive way the other man had looked at him, giving him what Ben needed even before Ben had realized it. Mike had made living in the protective cage of the White House easier to deal with not only for Ben, but Connor and Maggie as well. 

The two of them had grown even closer over the past year. Too close at times, Ben knew, but he hadn’t had the will to put any distance between them to put them on a more professional level. 

He sipped his second shot, the scotch warming him up and letting the tension he’d been carrying slowly dissipate. Mike had finished his, rolling the glass between his palms. The apartment was quiet around them beyond the usual sounds of an old place. 

Ben`s gaze drifted to Mike’s left hand and the missing wedding ring that hadn’t been there for the past few months. Mike had said the divorce was amicable, stemming from the long hours and high levels of stress that left both of them barely seeing each other once Mike rejoined Ben’s detail.

He looked up from Mike’s hand to his face. 

Mike’s eyes were dark brown and alive, wiping away the last remnants of Ben’s dreams. Something far more than professional concern filled them. 

It wasn’t the first time Mike had looked at Ben the way he was now. 

It wasn’t the first time Ben wanted to act on that look, especially when it was given in the middle of the night. 

Suddenly, Ben was tired of death and grief that never seemed to fade.

If he was a stronger man, Ben would have waited until his term was over before starting this. But he wasn’t. Not tonight. 

He’d lost Maggie, Charlie, and a score of good agents and friends. He was tired of grieving and seeing the dead haunt his dreams. 

Mike drained his glass, setting it carefully down before leaning over the table. 

Ben met him halfway. The kiss was tentative, both of them keeping their eyes open. 

Mike pulled back, rising smoothly to his feet. He pushed aside the table, as Ben sat back on the couch. Mike straddled him on the couch, resting his hands against the back on either side of Ben’s head.

Ben slipped his hands up under Mike’s shirt, enjoying the warmth of skin under his fingertips. Mike settled more firmly in Ben’s lap, letting Ben take more of his weight. 

The second kiss was far from tentative. It was rough and wet, with an edge of franticness underlying it. 

Ben tipped his head back as Mike’s mouth trailed down his throat, nipping at the soft skin. His grip tightened on Mike’s hips, fingers digging in.

Mike rocked against him, letting Ben feel the other man growing hard. Ben thrust up into him, his own cock swelling as he rubbed against Mike. 

Mike tugged at Ben’s shirt, pulling away long enough to strip him out of it. He peeled off his own, leaving both men naked from the waist up. 

Ben scrapped his fingertips over the soft skin of Mike’s belly and chest, feeling the rough patches from scars, both old and new. 

Ben gasped when Mike started sucking on the delicate skin of his neck. That was going to leave a mark just hidden under the collar of his shirt. He was going to feel that over the next few days. 

Mike shifted, thrusting harder against Ben. Ben groaned, digging his hands into the firm cheeks of Mike’s ass to get him to move even faster. He could feel their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin material of his boxers and Mike’s pants.

Any modicum of finesse and experience was lost as they rutted against each other, their pants and moans filling the air. 

“Come on, Ben. Come on.” Mike’s voice was low and raspy in his ear.

Ben braced his feet on the floor to give him more leverage to thrust harder against Mike. 

He was so damn close, feeling his balls drawing up, tension ratcheting up with Mike urging him on in that gravelly voice of his. 

With a low groan, Ben came hard, spilling into his shorts.

Mike panted, rocking harder into him a few more times until he stiffened, the front of his pants getting wet. 

Mike collapsed against him, letting Ben take his full weight. The air was heavy with their panting as they caught their breaths. Ben rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of Mike’s hip as his heart slowed down, sweat and come cooling on his body. 

Sometime later, Mike stirred, slipping off of Ben’s lap. He held out a hand for Ben to take, feeling the familiar strength of the other man as Mike tugged him up off the couch. 

They walked into the bedroom, Mike making a detour to the bathroom for a damp cloth. They stripped out of their stained pants and cleaned themselves up. Mike pulled on a pair of Ben’s old sweats before they both crawled into bed.

Ben rolled onto his side, the bed shifting under Mike as the other man curled up behind him, resting a warm, broad hand over Ben’s waist. Ben closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep, enjoying the press of Mike’s body against him and the lassitude of a good orgasm. 

For the rest of the night, held securely in Mike’s arms, he didn’t remember dreaming.


End file.
